The Tantalus Death

By ROSS ROCKLYNNE

"Give us water, or we perish!" But the Conclave of Nations denied the Red Planet's frantic plea. So began the Reign of Terror ... a Martian judgement that plunged the Earth into hideous chaos.

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Spring 1940. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

The Master Conclave of the Sectional Governors of the World State was in its first day of session. The Speaker, about to call for a motion of adjournment, rose, looked about the packed tiers of seats as if searching for someone. Relief came to his face—and was replaced by annoyance as the huge, double doors swung open.

A being, resplendent in colorful uniform, of human shape but twelve feet tall, entered.

In the resigned silence that followed, the doorman announced,

"Olduk, the Martian ambassador!"

All eyes followed the massive, wrinkled old form as it made its way slowly through the aisles.

The Speaker bit his lip. He said, "The Conclave welcomes you, Olduk. We had feared that you would not be present."

Olduk paused and bowed. He said, in his guttural, unnatural tones, "Olduk thanks you."

"You wished to speak before the assembly?"

"Yes, please. The rostrum may I use?"

"Yes," said the Speaker, "the rostrum you may use."

A titter of laughter spread through the tiered seats.

Olduk paid none or small attention, even to the whisperings of two secretaries that his receptive, large ears picked up.

"Why does he keep up with this farce?" one asked. "Every year he gets up on the rostrum, and makes a speech, asking, as usual, for water. He's been denied exactly ten times."

"He'll get it in the neck this time," Olduk heard the other say knowingly. "The Spanish and Japanese Sectional Governors have had several bills thrown out this session, and they're spoiling for an argument. 

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